


modern histories

by grains_of_saturn



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Community: 31_days, Dubious Consent, M/M, References to Suicide, Spoilers, postgame, vague Promptis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 16:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11294421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grains_of_saturn/pseuds/grains_of_saturn
Summary: Only those who survived the years of darkness were able to take charge of the future; so, too, were records of the past their responsibility.





	modern histories

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 31_days, June 24th, 2017 prompt - " _Someone should mourn him, even if for a moment._ "

"... The fact of the matter is, regardless of our own feelings on the subject, Lucis has been without a monarchy for longer than a decade, now. We hold - and have held, for quite some time - a growing population of children who have never known such a thing, and, I suppose, will never. ...Simply, we have to strike a balance. The fear that plagued our country - that plagued the world! - has been removed, but we are, after all, individual." Ignis leant back in his chair, netting his fingers. "There are still those who resent King Regis for his actions, on that fateful day - and before. We should consider ourselves fortunate that we still have people around us who remember the rule of King Mors - similarly chequered though those memories might be."

Prompto sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I know, I _know_. I just--..." He looked to the side, unable quite to voice his frustrations. "It's all so complicated."

Ignis kept his tone light. "I don't know if I'd say _that_ , so much. I do agree with you, Prompto; knowing that not everybody holds our particular set of memories is no reason only to listen to dissent. That Noct was the one to restore light to the world--... in a general sense, such a thing can be separated from his status as royalty. That he was the True King--... I don't think there is a person alive today who would resent both his lineage and what he gave us. The latter, here, is what we should focus on."

To be sat there within the Citadel, sat before Ignis at his desk, in his office - it seemed strange, to Prompto, to think that almost a full year had passed since _then_. Since the new dawn over Insomnia. The ten years of darkness prior to that - he'd lived through each day, heavy with the feeling that that was all he could do; that was all _anybody_ had been able to do. And yet, since then, the sun had continued to rise and set, much as it ever had done, as if _that time_ was nothing more than an unpleasant dream.

The year since had brought with it its own set of challenges. To be able to consider the future was no longer a luxury as much as it was a necessity, and to rebuild - the cities, the countries, the lives of those within - took concentrated effort and organization. However, as the date marking that first year approached, some thought was allowed to be dedicated towards some manner of _recognition_. " _We are, I think, allowed some levity,_ " Ignis had said. Their own personal loss still felt almost overwhelming, but there was more than just _that_ to consider. " _It would be appropriate, I think, to celebrate his life. And our own, as much as we are able._ "

On an external level, Prompto understood it. Rationally, it made sense. Internally, irrationally, it felt almost ridiculous to consider the concept of smiling to crowd of celebration when that loss still felt so total and _immediate_ , perhaps even moreso for this event--... but if watching Ignis over the past year had taught him anything, it was the importance of separation between a private face and a public face. Prompto also knew that he didn't have even half of the responsibilities that Ignis had in situations such as these, but that remembering his public face was important. Just another aspect of day-to-day living.

Copies of photos lay strewn across Prompto's side of the desk; throughout their conversation, he'd been shuffling them back and forth, trying to work them into some sort of an order in his mind. It was up to him, which ones to use for the celebratory display, but he still found himself in Ignis's office, talking through the options. (It was an excuse and he knew it, and knew that Ignis knew that also; regardless, he would find himself indulged.) Their smiling faces, of more than ten years prior, looked back at him from the photos; group shots, silly poses, _all of it_. There, too, was--... _that_ photo. Swept to the side, like an afterthought. Unmentioned to Ignis, but there as a reminder; with Lestallum as the backdrop, there - _Ardyn_.

"Was there something else?"

Prompto glanced up, momentarily surprised to be shaken from his thoughts. Not for the first time, he wondered if Ignis had some sort of psychic ability to be able to tell these things; even in the silence, Prompto felt very obvious. And there had always been _something else_ , that one thing, in every silence and at the back of every thought. If asked, Prompto would have said that he wasn't good at keeping secrets; it would have been easy to assume that due to his general demeanor, that the words would tumble from his mouth before he could prevent them, but he felt it more the opposite. From as far back as he could remember (and even beyond that), growing up in Lucis, he'd been keeping secrets, and he'd hated it. There had never been a single time when the weight of something that _just couldn't be said_ hadn't threatened to crush him; even moreso for his youth spent with Noctis, for all the time he'd spent with the group. As it had turned out, they hadn't minded his origins as a citizen of Niflheim - and to think of it rationally, again, it almost made sense. He'd had so many fears around those words, none of which had, ultimately, materialized.

_And yet._

"... I slept with Ardyn."

The silence that followed was different, _but then, of course it would be_. Prompto felt he could practically see the humor drain from Ignis's expression; the ball was in his court, but still, full seconds passed before his response.

"Well--..." He offered a tight smile. "We all make mistakes in our youth, don't we?"

"I just--... sorry, saying things like this out of nowhere--... it was before we knew who he was. It was before we knew _what_ he was. It's just--..." Prompto gave a humorless laugh. "I never told anybody. The more time went on, the more it was like--... I _definitely_ shouldn't say something--... you know? I totally get it if you think less of me for that. I sure do."

Ignis softened, then. "You shouldn't be so harsh on yourself. ...I--... can't pretend to understand the compulsion, but you yourself said it - before we knew who he was, before we knew _what_ he was... there were times at which he was almost _helpful_ , weren't there? And you did always seem to want to see the best in people."

"You probably think I'm stupid, huh."

"Not stupid, but... naive, perhaps. Back then, at least. Of course, he had a charisma to him, and I'm sure he could be quite charming, if he thought that such a thing were to aid him. If his intent was to draw you in, then--... at that time, I suppose, you would have felt no reason not to. ...Forgive me, speculating like this. Whatever the circumstances, I'm sure they were yours and yours alone."

Somehow, the urge to _say something_ had been much stronger, of late; Prompto wasn't sure why. And he knew that there was no good way to bring it up, and that perhaps it would be better never mentioned, but there was still yet a small part of him that had been bursting at the seams in every conversation, trying to find an opening to _this is what happened_. He still hesitated, unable to find the right words to respond with. Ignis leant forward against the desk, taking it upon himself to fill that silence.

"It's... cathartic to say such things, is it not? I apologize, I'm not--... fully well-versed in these situations. It was... never an issue with Noct, and I don't think Gladio ever had a tryst he regretted. I would say that it's quite common, though? To believe a connection formed, only to discover - perhaps too late - that that person isn't the person you thought they were, that they were _never_ the person you thought they were... I don't mean simply to offer platitudes, of course."

Like that, it was acceptable. A mistake. How could anybody have known, back then? A forgivable error of judgment. The concept had been revealed, and Ignis seemed to have talked himself into his own rationalization; Prompto still watched for any trace of a negative reaction. _One night, more than a decade ago. That's fine, isn't it?_

It had been more than that, and it made Prompto's heart race just to think of it. One time could be excused, but subsequently...? Knowing him the Chancellor of Niflheim, _but maybe that's okay. Maybe that doesn't mean anything. Not like being from Niflheim is, like, an automatic stamp of evil, right?_ Ignis was right, at least, in one respect; _how could I have been that naive?_

The ten years of darkness had affected them all differently; the common thread was the loss of Noctis, and with the world as it was, that loss felt altogether too raw. All they could do was to wait, and to reassure others that he would return; they never halted in their belief, but it was still a long time to sustain themselves - and others - on faith and faith alone. The three of them would meet, during that time, in various combinations, but speak little of their activities while separate. Gladiolus threw himself into what remained of Lestallum's social scene. Ignis took it upon himself to investigate the Royal Tombs of Lucis, alongside Talcott. Prompto had undergone further training with Cor, fighting with him and with Iris, doing his best to make the Hunters proud.

There would be times, too, where people didn't return. The hunts were dangerous and losses were expected, but sometimes whispers would go around of people who just _left_. " _Took up while everyone else was sleepin', walked right out of Lestallum's gates._ "

" _But--... why!? That's--... that's practically suicide--!_ "

(After a time, it became evident that that was, indeed, the intention.)

It was possible to evade the immediate territory of daemons if you were fast enough. Coupled with that was the fact that Prompto knew his strengths lay in long-range attacks; Cor trained him to defend, taught him what to do if he was caught up and surrounded, but still the best strategy was to avoid getting yourself in that situation to begin with. He took a car, ignoring the darkness of the water below as he crossed the Insomnian bridge. The city was empty but for daemons, he knew that, he _knew_ it, but he still had to check, just to be _sure_ \--...

He'd returned there, again and again. Each time, telling himself it would be the last. There, in the throne room, incapable of reconciling Ardyn's actions with the warmth of his touch, as tender as little else was in the endless night that surrounded them. He hated it, but kept coming back. He hated himself for not hating it more. Justification hung loosely across his mind - _maybe he can stop this? He seems to know what's going on, more than anyone else. Maybe he has some answers. Maybe this time will be the time he'll tell me, tell me anything._

Even then, Prompto knew he was being toyed with. Ardyn was playing with him, for what little interest he could provide. There, too, lay some sort of perverse attachment; Prompto knew that Ardyn's mood could turn at any point, but had never seen evidence of that towards he himself. _He could throw you away at any moment, but for as long as you can keep him entertained_ \--... Prompto would provide that justification, and receive something close to affection in return. Maybe entirely superficial, but intoxicating all the same. Ardyn would smile, and Prompto would remember that first time, what felt like a world away, back in Lestallum. Behaving like he truly found Prompto fascinating, like there was nothing more malicious in his intent than the baseline of desire. Prompto had believed that, then, and didn't know what to do with the desperation that _still_ craved that small, specific sensation. Separate from everything else, against all forms of rational thought, but always _there_.

In retrospect, he knew it couldn't have been the case. Ardyn had known them from the start - their group, and their goals. Always steps ahead of them, ready to aid them for the unknown purpose of his own agenda. (The way he'd kissed the inside of Prompto's wrist, " _Do you know what this means? I could tell you. If you really wanted to know_.")

Every visit was the punishment for each subsequent betrayal. " _You're really quite fascinating, you do know that, don't you? I can barely keep you away. My, but I wonder what those friends of yours would think? I presume you've kept our little... dalliances to yourself. But, oh! If only they could see you now, here, like this_..."

(Ardyn could turn his appearance quicker than anyone - that felt like the worst betrayal of all. Years into the world of darkness, there, for a moment, was _Noctis_ \- to be able to see his face, feel his touch, hear his voice? _It's not you and it was never you, but_ \--. Years went by, with no sign of his return. Prompto believed in him, believed that he would return more than he believed in anything else, but then Ardyn would take on that form, say things that _Noct would never_ \--

\--and he felt so, so weak, but he would see Noctis there, waiting for him, arms open, and feel no other choice than to fall.)

Cor never asked him where he'd been. Iris did, sometimes, vaguely, but would accept his non-answers with no further question. " _Everyone needs space, sometimes,_ " Cor would say. " _Everyone has their reasons._ "

There had only been one time that Prompto could recall in which he felt as if Ardyn had addressed him as anything like an equal. Words given on a whim, as if recounting a fairy tale. A story of long ago, of warring Gods, and the lost lands of Solheim. Of the old Kings of Lucis, and the plague of the Starscourge; of the powers granted to what would become paired lineages - that of the Oracle, and that which would lead to the birth of the True King. He spoke, too, of a Healer King, corrupted by that he sought to protect against, rejected by the Crystal, forsaken by the Gods.

" _Remember this, Prompto_ ," he'd said. " _I would believe there to be few left in this world who would._ "

As the preparations for the anniversary celebrations had progressed, Prompto hadn't been able to forget that one particular meeting. The others felt perhaps best left forgotten, but that one time - he hadn't trusted himself to believe any emotion he thought he saw in Ardyn's expression, but there was _something_ then that had caught in his thoughts, only clinging further with each day that passed.

"He--... was a Lucis Caelum, wasn't he?" Again, Prompto glanced up in an attempt to judge Ignis's reaction.

"That... would appear to be the case. Yes, yes he was. Not a fact that any Lucian would find in their school textbooks, but a fact all the same."

"You'll probably just say I'm being sentimental, but--... maybe... we should... let other people know that? I'm, I'm not saying we should, like, celebrate the fact or anything, just--..."

"How else can the Lucis Caelum line be remembered, now, but through recorded history? The same, too, of course, for the Aldercapt line of Niflheim. Given the events that led to the fall of the Empire... I fear there is little other way to record _that_ history other than what can be recovered from their former territories. Such things are not in our immediate list of priorities, but... I do--... worry about it, somewhat. If nothing else, I believe that to be our responsibility, now." Ignis rose from his chair, going to a particular shelf at the back of the room; the surrounding shelves held heavy tomes, but that one only seemed to hold folders and files, pictures and papers collected together in some particular way. Having taken a specific folder, he returned to the desk, and placed it in front of Prompto.

"Talcott was quite a help, both in gathering and transcribing what information we found. It... is a project left mostly on the backburner, I will admit, but I was quite surprised at the breadth of what was available to us, once we knew where to look. You're free to come here any time, to look through what we've compiled. If--... there is anything you are able to add, then--... it would be quite welcome." Again, Ignis took on a gentle tone. "As a historical document, any information should be kept impartial. ...Nonetheless, it could be that you might find closure in such a process."

"Right." Prompto reached over to take the folder, then leant back as he leafed through it. "I'll--... think about it."

"Please do. Knowledge is, after all, power." Ignis smiled. "I've always believed that."


End file.
